


A Familiar Face

by Inthelittledoctor



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Clara Echo, F/M, Fluff, Nerd remembers another nerd and they do cute things, Post Hell Bent Reunion Fic, because love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6489238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inthelittledoctor/pseuds/Inthelittledoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After forgetting Clara, the Doctor mopes around the Universe trying to get over her. He lands in 1963 on one of his 'getting over Clara' trips and bumps into a girl that's a little bit too familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Familiar Face

**Author's Note:**

> For an anon who gave me the prompt: 'Whouffaldi headcanon! Please write! After Hell Bent. Twelve is travelling around in the TARDIS and hurting a bit 'cause he can't remember Clara. Finds echo of Clara. Remembers the restaurant and is confuzzled and there's fluff and feels and sadness.'

He'd meant for it to just be a quick trip to 1963. Something to cheer him up after the loss of a girl he couldn't even remember. He'd been going a lot of places to cheer himself up lately, it seemed. He doesn't quite know why he picked 1963. He just liked the year, he supposed. 

He steps out of the TARDIS, filling his lungs with the air around him. America. November eighteenth. He slides his finger into his mouth, keeping it there for a good moment before pulling it out and holding it into the air. It was going to rain later. Best find somewhere to shelter himself before that happened. He wanders out of the alley the TARDIS had landed in and walks alongside the road with his head down, running over the events of what had happened so far this year in case someone tried to strike up a conversation with him. Pope John XXIII had died earlier that year, though this was bound not to be conversation worthy seeing as though it was a while ago. Martin Luther King Jr. gave that famous speech of his. What was it called? He couldn't quite remember, too many facts jumbled up in his brain and he wasn't quite willing to pick through them at the moment. Kennedy would get shot in four days in Dallas Texas. Probably shouldn't talk about that. 

He's trying trying to remember the day Kennedy's killer was convicted, too distracted by his thoughts to notice the hurried girl running towards him until it's too late. She crashes into his chest, his arms instinctively wrapping around her as they fall to the ground. Humans were so clumsy, never paying attention to those around them until it was too late. Although he supposed that he was also to blame in this situation, seeing as though he wasn't paying attention as well. A groan sounds from on top of him and he's quick to look down at the girl on his chest, her chestnut brown hair cascading down onto his shirt. She lifts her head and looks up at him, one of her hands pushing her hair out of her face. As soon as her eyes meet his he knows he's seen her before. Those chocolate brown eyes are far too familiar for this to be the only time he's seen them. 

'I'm so sorry,' she's apologising, and he notices her accent. Blackpool. Why does he find that cute? 

'It's fine, happens to the best of us.' No it doesn't. He should be furious at her for interrupting his train of thought. He'd be furious at anyone else, so why not her? She wiggles in his arms. Quickly realising what she was trying to do, he hastily takes his arms off of her and mumbles an apology, watching as she gets up and brushes off her houndstooth dress. His eyes raked up her body, taking in her tights that showed off her legs a little too well, and the dress that seemed a little too tight. The long sleeve shirt under her dress is almost an afterthought to him as his eyes focus on her face. It wasn't just her accent that was cute. He pushes himself up on his elbow, a groan escaping him as he feels a sharp pain in his lower back. The girl's expression becomes one of concern and she kneels down, her eyes wide, much like a doe in headlights, he thinks. 

'Are you okay?' She questions, worry filling her tone. 

He nods, although the grimace that appears on his face as he does so gives him away. She frowns and slips her hand into his, pulling on it and helping him stand up, giving him a smile once he's on his feet. Her smile looks like it could outshine the sun. How did men manage not to fall to their knees and give into her every wish? He certainly felt willing to do so at the moment. Especially after she just helped him get up, something he probably wouldn't have been able to do without hurting his back even worse. They carefully make their way to a brick wall for him to lean on, her crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow once he gets situated. 

'How does your wife deal with you?' She teases, although there's a hint of curiosity to her voice. 

What made her think that he had a wife? Technically he hadn't had a wife in a long while, although part of him felt like the woman he lost was something important to him. A wife, perhaps. 'She doesn't,' he replies, bowing his head,'At least not anymore.' 

The girl frowns,'I'm sorry. What happened to her?' 

He lets out a bitter laugh. What exactly has happened to Clara Oswald? She died, only to be brought back by him and now he wasn't even sure if she was alive or not. The Universe had torn them apart, never to meet again. His head tilts up and his eyes meet hers as he answers honestly,'I don't know.'

She gives him a sympathetic smile, her arms uncrossing and her hand reaching for his. Her hand squeezes his gently, eyes portraying that she truly was sorry for him,'It was stupid of her to leave you. I haven't even known you for five minutes and I already know that you're a great guy.'

Stupid isn't exactly a word he'd use to describe Clara, and really, if any one of them was stupid, it was him. They stand in silence for a few minutes, their eyes never breaking contact and he feels more content than he's felt in a long time. How would she feel if he asked her to travel with him? Would she say yes? Would it always feel this good to be around her if they did travel together? 

'I never caught your name,' she informs, interrupting his thoughts for the second time that day. 

'John Smith,' he smiles, his teeth flashing through his parted lips. 

'Nice to meet you, John,' she gives him a smile of her own,'I'm Clara. Clara Oswald.'

He blinks. The world comes crashing down on him. Her eyes, of course he knew those eyes, that's how he recognised them. But, how could he remember them if the neural block was in place? Think, Doctor! Where else had he seen those eyes? That's when it comes to him. The girl in the diner. How could he have been so stupid? He'd looked straight into her eyes and still not recognised her. He can't even begin to imagine how hurt she had felt. Stupid stupid stupid. He focuses back on this version of her, his hand tightening its grip on hers. Something wasn't right. What year did he meet Clara? Certainly not in the 60s. Hadn't it been in Victorian London? No. That was wrong. Why did he have a memory of her snogging him in Victorian London? 

Because she had, he realises. At least, a copy of her had. A toothy grin graces his features and he imagines that he must seem slightly mad to the echo in front of him. 'I think I know where my wife is,' he murmurs, tone excited. 

Clara smirks,'Well you best go find her then.' 

He drops her hand and kicks away from the wall he had been leaning on, a sudden rush of adrenaline going through him, his back pain forgotten. His legs move faster than his mouth does, causing him to have to shout a 'see you later, Clara Oswald' back at her as he bolts to his TARDIS. He pushes through the time machine's doors with ease, running to the console like a giddy child, his hands assaulting the controls. He looks up at the time router as the ship takes off, a confident smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. 

Time to go find Clara Oswald. 

-

She was far too easy to find. Perhaps she'd wanted to be found, was just waiting for him to take the hint. A disappearing American diner, of course he was intrigued, but he had more important business to attend to. That was until he discovered that Clara was taking residence in that American diner. If something had to do with her than it was instantly put to the top of his priority list, burning planets and dying civilisations be damned. 

He steps out onto the planet the TARDIS had taken him to, instantly noticing the diner, amazingly bright in comparison to the rest of the planet. Such a dull planet she'd decided to land on, the grass a steely grey and the sky one solid shade of yellow. This planet wasn't worthy of her beauty. He strides through the overgrown grass, hands fidgeting around nervously in his pockets as he gets closer to the diner. Why was she here? Didn't she know how beautiful and bright the rest of the Universe was? This planet was certainly nothing worth observing. Yet he sees her form sitting in the grass a little ways away from her diner, head tilted up, obviously observing this planet's repulsive yellow sky. Maybe it didn't look as repulsive if she looked at it through those gorgeous eyes of hers. He wonders if her eyes made everything in the Universe look beautiful. It occurs to him at this moment that she may be mourning. He certainly didn't go to bright places when he was mourning, in fact, he'd probably go to a place like this if he was mourning. Oh. His pace suddenly quickens, a sudden desperation to be at her side overtaking him. He approaches her as quickly as possible, the only noise being emitted being the subtle sound of grass swishing beneath his feet. He sits down next to her silently, feet on the ground, legs bent, his hands splayed out on the ground behind him. She seems too lost in her own thoughts to notice him. Or maybe she had been expecting someone else. 

'How's the TARDIS?' She questions, voice distant. So she had noticed him. He was expecting a bigger reaction, seeing as though they had parted ways never to see each other again. Well, can't expect too much out of life, he supposes. 

'Good, I believe. Haven't had a proper conversation with her in too long,' he replies, voice rougher than he had anticipated. His head tilts up so he can look at the sky with her. She doesn't respond. He looks over at her, not bothering to move his head. The laugh that escapes him can't be helped, she looks so lost. Her eyes are wide, lips parted, eyebrows almost up to her hairline. And somehow she still manages to look sad. How is he supposed to get rid of her sadness? Because he really doesn't like it. She stares at him for the longest time, her expression growing more sorrowful by the second. He can't stand looking at it anymore so he looks back up at the sky. Can't let her know he knows who she is just yet. Leave her in suspense for just a little longer. 

'It's you,' she breathes out, and he can practically hear the tears about to spill from her eyes. His fingers dig into the ground and he tries to hold back a smile. Happy tears. That's what was happening right now, she wasn't crying out of sadness, but joy. A few tears in the mix may be sad, sure, he'd be sad too if he thought she'd forgot him and then suddenly showed up out of nowhere one day for no clear reason. Though, much like her, he'd also be overflowing with joy. 

'That could apply to anyone,' he replies, a teasing tone to his voice. He turns his head to look at her, wiggling his eyebrows at her and giving her a small smile. 

She laughs, actually properly laughs and his hearts leap. He'd missed that sound far too much. Yet, he didn't even remember what it sounded like. As far as he was concerned, this was the first time he'd heard it. How could he miss something he didn't remember? Her sniff breaks through his thoughts and he looks at her, suddenly concerned. A small sign of affection was expected from her, perhaps a hand hold or a hug, a kiss on the cheek if he was lucky, but instead, she just sat there, staring at him. It was almost as if she was the one to forget him. Did he have to do everything today? First he had to remember her, then track her down, and now he had to do something affectionate to show her it as okay. She was so going to pay for this. 

As her hand goes to wipe away a tear that had fallen, he gently wraps his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand away and using his other hand to wipe away the tear. His fingers entwine with hers and he stares off into the horizon, interested in the way the yellow of the sky and grey of the grass seemed to blend. 

'Why're you holding my hand?' The smile is so noticeable in her voice that it makes him want to laugh. There wasn't a real answer to her question. He'd wanted to, that was simply it. He missed the feel of her smaller hand in his. 

'Just wanted to,' he replies, the words coming out a little too naturally. 

He sees her brow furrow out of the corner of his eye,'You don't seem like the type to just hold people's hands. Wouldn't your friend-Clara was it?-mind?'

Oh, she was really setting herself up here. His hand shifts in hers,'Do you mind?' 

'No, but-' 

He cuts her off,'Then there's the answer to your question.' His lips curl up into a smirk, her gone silent next to him. He wonders how long it will take for her to get it. Hopefully not much longer because he really wanted her to stop crying and just smile, maybe even yell at him a bit. He looks over at her and sees her processing his words. A look of recognition takes over her face for a brief moment before her brows furrow and her head snaps in his direction. 

'You arse!' 

Her hand leaves his and she promptly tackles him in a hug, his back roughly being met by the ground a moment later. His back arches as soon as it touches the ground, his pain being remembered. She seems a little too busy to notice his hiss in pain, her arms squeezing all of the air out of him. He thanks every God he knows when she stops, placing her hands in the grass next to his head. Looking at her seemed to be a very good pain reliever, he discovers. Her eyes shine as she looks down at him, a dumb grin on her lips that he wants to snog off. As if reading his mind, she ducks down, her lips colliding with his. Stray pieces of her hair that had fallen from her ponytail tickle his face, and he laughs, because her hair feels strange against his face and because he's here with her, kissing her. She laughs along with him, tears falling from her eyes and down onto his cheeks. 

'I've missed you,' she laughs, a sniff following her words,'How long's it been for you?' 

He takes a deep breath in, getting his laughter under control, then letting the breath out. 'Too long,' he admits. With that, his lips are on hers again, sucking gently on her top lip and feeling her respond the same with his bottom lip. He risks running his teeth along her lip and she whimpers, back arching into him. It takes everything in him not to laugh out of sheer happiness. She takes the next step and deepens the kiss, something he is grateful for because he knows he's never be daring enough to do so. They kiss for a little while longer, the occasional laugh leaving them. Her lips leave his after what seems like forever, no clear signs that they had just been snogging on her face. 

'You still don't have a pulse, do you?' He asks breathlessly. 

She shakes her head, a sad smile on her lips. He'd done this to her. He made her practically immortal and he hates himself for it. Why couldn't he have just let her die? Because, oh yeah, he loves her. Letting out a sigh, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her down into his chest, hearing a small squeak of surprise from her before she hugs him back, nuzzling her face into his chest. He buries his face into the side of her neck, holding her tighter and promising her that he'd never leave her again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos if you enjoyed and comments are always appreciated.


End file.
